


"What are we?" - [A Jared Leto Halloween story].

by A_Wolf



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars, jared leto - Fandom
Genre: A.Wölf, F/M, Halloween, Tumblr: theartofimagining13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 14:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12584240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Wolf/pseuds/A_Wolf
Summary: The townies believe that Mr. and Mrs. Leto are hiding something. They don’t seem to age. They’re cold creatures, seemingly uninterested in the town’s repetitive tragedy. But what are they hiding?





	"What are we?" - [A Jared Leto Halloween story].

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

**Originally posted at** : [The Art of Imagining](http://theartofimagining13.tumblr.com/).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Ambience** :  _[Fireplace, thunder, rain, wind](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DatELVQ9aVGw&t=OTA5MTBlZGMzMTQ2MTY4MWJiMDVjZjJjMWE5OTUxOWFjNDEzZmMxZixndU04VExZMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AzeG4skxCIV8hyNva5Yxu7A&p=http%3A%2F%2Ftheartofimagining13.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166991652557%2Fwhat-are&m=1)  // [Music](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DYyknBTm_YyM&t=YjAzNjgzMDIxODliZGQwNzRmYzBkNTNhOWU3YWUxODNlMmZlMGIwNixndU04VExZMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AzeG4skxCIV8hyNva5Yxu7A&p=http%3A%2F%2Ftheartofimagining13.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166991652557%2Fwhat-are&m=1) _ (Play both while reading. Ambience at a lower volume than the music).

* * *

The sun never shines in this town. It’s always, always raining.

As I look out the window at the stormy and windy night from the safety of my living room kept warm by the fire in the fireplace, I meet a stranger’s eyes; a 10-year-old boy standing across the street, in a raincoat, just glancing up at this three story house, staring at me with his judging little eyes. But we are so used to it by now, my husband and I.

The townies think we cannot hear them whispering.

These things, unkind things, god-awful things; “ _Mr. and Mrs. Leto rarely go out. Has the sunlight ever even touched those pale faces? They are so indifferent, so insensitive. Have you looked at them? They’re probably dead inside. They haven’t aged a day. They’re not human”._ But what are we? Of course there are the ones fascinated by us, those who are compelled by the mystery instead of frightened. But they’re the worst; the fearless ones who stand very close to my porch, like the little bastard I’m still looking at.

It is the sound of my husband’s dexterous fingers playing the piano in the studio that distracts me from this annoyance and fills my heart with joy, but the maid interrupts my train of thought.

_“Mrs?”_

I turn to look at the old woman.

_“Yes, Gertrude?”_

_“It’s time”._

_“Thank you, Gertrude”,_  I say to this faithful and discrete servant of ours.

I look out the window once more. The stranger kid has finally decided to leave. As the child walks away, I think to myself  _“what a waste”_ , and then I catch a glimpse of the  _“Missing”_  flyer attached to a tree with a picture of a smiling young woman who disappeared a couple months ago. She was pregnant. It’s this small town’s tragedy, the coincidence; the women who’ve vanished were in their last trimester of pregnancy, and no one knows why this is happening but everyone assumes trafficking might be the answer.

You’d think girls would be frightened, but it still doesn’t stop them from getting pregnant.  _Idiots._

* * *

I walk into the study, allured by my husband’s dramatic piece which calls my name and reverberates in my bones as it gets louder. And I see him there, sitting at the piano in his white suit that matches my white dress. I stand next to the beautiful black instrument and witness how his fingers move quicker than my heartbeat as he, with closed eyes, immerses himself in the last part of the song. He then throws his head back and opens them. His blue eyes are clouded tonight. It’s time. If I look in the mirror, mine will be too.

_“You look ravishing”,_  he says as he holds my right hand and kisses it.

_“Jared”,_  I smile before I announce, _“Tonight we dine in the attic”._

He hums as he stands up and lets out a sigh with the pure relief and contentment of those who’ve waited too long to hear said words.

_“I’m starving”,_  he says.

_“Let’s go then, darling”._

I grab the golden candelabra before holding his hand and leading him towards the big staircase that will take us to the attic. The lightning reflects on all the walls and with it, for the split second it lasts, we can also see the ceaseless rain. My stomach growls. It yearns for that special meal that took long to be ready. All special occasion foods do.

We enter the attic, and Gertrude has done a wonderful job setting the table. It’s covered with my favorite gold tablecloth, and my most expensive floral china, and the cutlery rests above, perfectly accommodated. The exquisite wine’s waiting to be tasted, and as if my husband could read my mind, he proceeds to pour two glasses which we clink and drink from while I get lost in his piercing blue yet cloudy eyes. We cannot wait any longer.

_“Here it comes”,_  Gertrude announces.

The young woman on the hospital bed next to our dining table screams in pain. And even though the thunder slightly masks the annoying sound, I roll my eyes. Looks like Gertrude didn’t get everything right after all.

_“Please, gag her. You know this gives me headaches”,_  I say while she proceeds to tie a small piece of cloth around the girl’s loud mouth.

Jared’s eyes glint with enthusiasm when we see the baby crowning, emerging bit by bit from the poor girl’s birth canal.

_“You gotta push, sweetheart, push”,_  He encourages while putting a hand on one of her spread knees.

At this point, I don’t know if her muffled screams come from the pain she’s going through, or her fear of us.

_“It’s a boy”,_  Gertrude says holding the quiet and bloody newborn.

The mother falls unconscious. Tired from the almost inhuman exertion she endured. Jared looks at the baby with a fascination I get to see every 9 months or so. He holds him without minding the blood and vernix spilling on his beautiful white suit. And here comes my favorite part; my husband holds the baby upside down, from his tiny feet before smacking his bottom to provoke the cry.

He’s got a pair of lungs. We let the baby scream for a whole minute.

_“Are you ready?”_  he says giving me a grin.

I nod with excitement, as the shrill cry stops and the baby goes limb all of a sudden when my husband snaps his tiny neck.

Jared bites off the baby’s left foot to get the first taste, like the regular family men who, during an important dinner, cut the food first. And the ecstasy takes over him. The sound of him chewing on the flesh and bone while the blood runs down his chin as he lifts his nose to the sky and his eyes almost roll to the back of his head, makes me twice as hungry. The clouds in his eyes begin to disappear.

_“Come here, sweetheart”,_  My husband, my maker orders offering his left hand to me which I take to get closer to him.

He smiles at me and holds the lifeless baby up and above me as I open my mouth wide for Jared to lower him until I catch one of his arms with my teeth. And with a mouthful of blood and skin, he kisses me so we can share the taste and the euphoria. We’ve waited too long for this. As we slowly pull away, Jared lets what remains of the tiny corpse fall on the center plate. And we dine.

_The townies don’t know.  
There’s a secret to never growing old.  
But what are we if not creatures of the night? They wonder.  
Every nine months, we eat newborns during thunder._

 


End file.
